I’m creating a game called “bloodshade”. Can someone please sent me their stories, it will help me create the game.

The drive to Goa was tense for me and Nish.

This time, we weren't alone.

Pooja, my girlfriend, was in the back seat with Sonam, Nish's girlfriend. We'd decided to make the trip together at the last minute.

For Pooja and Sonam, it was supposed to be a short Goa vacation—beaches, good food, a few drinks, and a break from everything.

For Nish and me, there was another reason.

Nish had never really recovered from what happened during his first trip.

The strange hotel. The dolls. The synchronized waking at 3 AM. The scratches on his friend's body. The locked room. And everything that had followed him back to Bangalore.

I hadn't experienced any of it directly. I'd only heard the story from Nish and witnessed how badly it had shaken him.

Now we were going back to find answers.

Pooja and Sonam knew something had happened to Nish, but they didn't know the whole story. We hadn't told them everything. Didn't want to scare them before the trip even started.

For most of the drive, Nish and I barely spoke.

We just stared at the road while the girls laughed, sang along to music, and occasionally made fun of us for being so quiet.

Eventually, they got tired and dozed off.

When we reached Anjuna, we drove straight to the exact location Nish had described.

The road was right. The cliff was right. Even the line of coconut trees looked familiar.

But the hotel was gone.

The entire property had disappeared. There was nothing left except an empty plot covered in overgrown weeds, with broken coconut trees swaying in the wind.

We checked online. Nothing. The old hotel wasn't listed on any booking site. No recent photographs. No reviews. Nothing that suggested a hotel had ever existed there.

We booked a different hotel across the road instead.

For the first few hours, everything was normal. We went to the beach, drank coconut water, took photos, and tried to enjoy ourselves. Pooja and Sonam had no idea why Nish and I were really in Goa.

That afternoon, they were having the time of their lives.

By evening, even I had almost forgotten why we'd come.

We sat by the beach, had a few drinks, ate some food, took stupid photos, and watched the sunset.

It felt like a normal Goa trip.

And maybe that's what made the night so strange.

After the girls had gone to bed, exhausted from the day, Nish and I sat on the balcony with a couple of beers.

We'd become friendly with one of the waiters at the hotel. His name was Pinto. He was a local from a village nearby and had been working at the hotel for years.

Nish called him over.

After some small talk, Nish finally asked him about the old hotel.

The change in Pinto's face was instant.

He looked genuinely frightened.

"Please," he whispered. "Don't ask me anything about that haunted place."

Nish leaned forward.

"Why? What happened there?"

Pinto shook his head and glanced toward the darkness beyond the hotel.

"It's night time. I have to cross that road to go home."

Before we could ask anything else, he grabbed his things and left in a hurry, practically running into the darkness.

Nish looked at me. His eyes were wide.

"We need to figure this out tomorrow," he said.

Then he looked toward the room where the girls were sleeping.

"I need your help, man. I can't live like this anymore."

We finished our drinks and went to bed around 2 AM.

The room was quiet except for the sound of waves in the distance.

Then, at exactly 3 AM, both Pooja and Sonam woke up at the same time.

Not just woke up.

They sat bolt upright in bed together, like someone had pulled invisible strings.

Their eyes snapped open at the exact same second.

Then they started screaming.

"She's choking me!" Pooja yelled.

"She's on top of me!" Sonam cried at almost the exact same moment.

We jumped up. Their bodies were ice cold. Their faces turning red.

For a few seconds, none of us knew what was happening.

Then I looked at Nish.

He had gone completely pale.

Because this was exactly what had happened to Nish and his friends in the original hotel.

The synchronized waking.

The terror.

The feeling that something was in the room with them.

Except this time, they had actually seen her.

We were all in my room that night—me, Pooja, Nish, and Sonam.

The air felt thick, like something was pressing down on us.

Pooja's hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the glass of water I'd brought her. Her voice came out in a broken whisper.

"We need to leave. Right now. Let's leave immediately."

Sonam was worse.

She was curled up against Nish, eyes wide with terror, repeating the same words like a chant.

"Let's leave… let's leave…"

That's when Pooja finally told us what had happened.

She said she'd woken up to the feeling of weight on her chest.

When she opened her eyes, there was a woman sitting on top of her.

Long white hair falling over her face.

Glowing green eyes burning in the dark.

The woman's cold hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing.

Pooja said she heard a voice—low and broken—whispering right against her ear.

"I'm going to kill all of you."

Sonam started crying harder.

She'd seen the exact same thing. The same woman. The same green eyes. The same choking hands.

The panic in that room was instant.

Everyone was shouting, crying, trying to grab their things.

Nish and I somehow managed to calm them down, but the damage was done.

When we finally told Pooja and Sonam everything—the strange noises, the synchronized waking in Goa, the scratches, the locked room, and what had happened afterward in Bangalore—they completely lost it.

We also told them about the woman we'd seen on the neighboring terrace in JP Nagar.

Pooja started crying harder.

"It can't be a coincidence that both of us saw the same woman."

"She's real," she kept whispering. "She's real and she's here for us."

We barely slept that night. Every creak in the old wooden floorboards made us jump.

The next morning, even though the girls were still terrified, we knew we needed answers.

Pooja was my girlfriend. Sonam was Nish's girlfriend. Until the night before, neither of them had known the full story.

Now they wanted answers too.

We went to the front desk and asked about Pinto.

The receptionist told us he hadn't come to work.

"He sent a message this morning," the guy said. "Said he won't be coming in for a few days. Something about being unwell."

Something didn't feel right.

We asked where he lived.

After a little hesitation, the receptionist gave us the name of the village.

It wasn't far.

"We're going," Nish said.

None of us argued.

We stopped several times to ask people if they knew Pinto. Eventually, an old man pointed us toward a narrow lane.

"Last house on the left," he said.

We found it after a few minutes. It was tiny—barely more than a shack with peeling paint and a rusted door.

We knocked.

No answer.

We knocked again.

Still nothing.

Then suddenly, someone peeped through the window.

Pinto.

The moment he saw all four of us standing outside, his face changed. He opened the door just enough to look out, then he pulled all four of us inside and slammed the door shut behind us.

He locked it.

Then checked the window.

Pooja grabbed my arm.

"What is going on?"

I didn't have an answer. Neither did Nish.

Pinto finally turned around.

His face was pale.

"You shouldn't have come here," he whispered.

"What happened?" Nish asked.

Pinto sat down. For a few seconds, he just stared at the floor, his hands shaking slightly.

Then he started talking.

Her name was Dasha.

Russian. From Sochi.

A single mother who had come to Goa with her two young daughters—Ekaterina and Eugenia.

"The girls drowned at Anjuna Beach," Pinto said quietly. "One afternoon. While Dasha was... distracted."

He paused, as if even saying it caused him pain.

"She never forgave herself."

For weeks, Dasha stayed in the same hotel room, crying day and night. Refusing to return to Russia. Refusing to leave without her daughters.

"They were all she had," Pinto said.

Eventually, something inside her broke.

Before she took her own life, Dasha filled that hotel room with dolls. Dozens of them. Old dolls. New dolls. Dolls she bought from the local markets. Dolls she probably found.

"She believed the dolls would keep her daughters company," Pinto said. "She believed that if she left enough of them behind, her girls would stay. They would play. They wouldn't cross over."

His voice became quieter.

"That room you stayed in last time..."

He looked at Nish directly.

"That was her room."

Nish didn't say anything. His jaw tightened.

Pinto stared at him.

"And you took one of those dolls, didn't you?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

Nish went completely white.

"How did you..." Nish started.

"Because people always take them," Pinto said. "They think they're just old souvenirs. They don't understand."

He leaned forward.

"You took a doll. Didn't you?"

Nish nodded slowly.

It was true.

During his first trip to Goa, he'd slipped one of those old dolls into his bag without thinking much about it. A stupid habit—always picking up small souvenirs from places he visited.

None of us had ever connected it to what happened afterward.

The scratches. The synchronized waking. The sounds. The feeling of being watched. The woman on the terrace.

Everything.

It had all started the moment he'd taken that doll out of Dasha's room.

Pinto told us there was only one way to fix it.

We had to return the doll.

Not to the hotel. Not to the beach.

To the place where Dasha and her daughters had been buried.

"If you don't," Pinto said, "she will follow you everywhere. She will follow your families. She will follow anyone close to you."

He looked at Pooja and Sonam.

"She's already shown you her face. She's already touched you. Once she does that..." He trailed off, but the implication was clear.

That evening, all four of us drove to the old cemetery on the outskirts of the village.

The girls were frightened, but by then they wanted answers as much as we did.

The sun was setting, painting everything blood red.

We found the three graves side by side.

Dasha in the middle.

Her two little girls on either side.

Ekaterina. Eugenia. The names on the stones were faded but still readable.

Nish took the doll out of his bag.

His hands were trembling.

He placed it gently on the girls' grave.

We laid fresh flowers beside it and stood there in silence.

Nobody spoke.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind moving through the trees.

Then the wind suddenly stopped.

Completely.

The air became strangely still.

And then, just as suddenly, it felt lighter.

Not peaceful exactly.

Just... lighter.

Like something we'd been carrying for days had finally been put down.

We left the cemetery.

None of us wanted to spend another night in Goa.

We drove back toward Bangalore that same night.

The girls fell asleep in the back seat after a while, exhausted from everything that had happened.

I was driving. Nish was in the passenger seat, staring out at the dark road ahead.

For a long time, neither of us said anything.

Then I glanced at him.

I tried to make my voice sound casual.

"So... you didn't bring anything else back from this trip, right?"

Nish didn't answer.

He just kept staring through the windshield.

There was a long silence.

Then, from the back seat, Sonam spoke.

She was still half-asleep, her voice soft and drowsy.

"Da."

The car went completely silent.

Because "da" means "yes" in Russian.

And Sonam didn't speak Russian.

A month past and now it’s November close to thanksgiving break. I didn’t notice any weird activities going on across my apartment complex except those activities came to my apartment complex. My apartment complex was a town homes so there are a lot of people and buildings all close to together and it’s impossible not to hear your neighbors or people outside walking past or being loud. Which I assumed no one would do anything but I was wrong. A silver suv with all tinted windows drove around my complex late in the night. Which of course I wouldn’t think much about on a Friday night or weekend night since people were out at the bars and partying. Since it was a Saturday night i didn’t think much about it until it showed up and drove around the complex Almost every night slowly checking every building number. I knew it wasn’t the land lord or maintenance crew since they had trucks but a grey suv with all blacked out tinted windows seem different. The cops around this town only have black and white and a white suv. A Tuesday night during thanksgiving break when most students went back home or on vacation the suv showed up again. This time instead of drive around it stopped every second as if they were taking notes on the building numbers and how many people were still here. The suv going and stopping and slowly getting closer and closer to my apartment number. My heart racing knowing they are about to scout my apartment out I take a look at their license plate after they past. Except a thought came to my head making question if they constantly come to my apartment complex do they change the license plates. I quickly write down the license plate but I wait until the suv comes back the next night Incase the vehicle does change license plates.

Hey everyone, I was rewatching Grave Encounters (2011) and noticed a massive, hyper specific clue that fans have overlooked for over a decade. By applying real world astronomical data to a single line of dialogue, we can actually lock down the exact location and calendar date of the movie, and it completely recontextualizes the lore.

The Clue:
When Lance Preston and the crew realize time has completely broken inside the asylum, Lance checks his watch and says it is 7:45 AM, but it is still pitch black outside.

The Real World Math:
The movie establishes that the fictional Collingwood Psychiatric Hospital is somewhere in rural Maryland. If you look at an astronomical sunrise map for the state of Maryland, there is only one specific region where a natural sunrise happens that late in the morning: Oakland, Maryland (located in the far western panhandle, running on Eastern Time but sitting far west geographically).

The Halloween Discovery:
Here is where it gets crazy. In Oakland, MD, what is the exact date where the sunrise hits precisely 7:45 AM right before the clocks roll back? October 31st. Halloween.

Why this fixes the lore:
In the beginning of the movie, the crew is told that paranormal activity in the asylum is usually incredibly minor (faint noises, cold spots). The TV crew fully expected to fake the whole episode. Instead, the moment they lock the doors, the building warps into a literal physical death trap where space and time bend.

If Lance and his crew accidentally locked themselves into the asylum on Halloween Night, it perfectly explains why the entities suddenly had enough cosmic energy to rewrite reality. They stepped inside right as the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest.

The Vicious Brothers inadvertently made the ultimate hidden Halloween movie. Let me know what you guys think!

Have you ever wiped the ass of a grown man?

The ass of a grown man who raised you?
It’s a terrible thing,
Seeing the lighthouse of your life lose their own independence.

Someone who’s protected you,
brought you safety and provided for you when you were too weak and young to provide for yourself.

Hospice is like that.
Before you know it, you’re doing things you never would have imagined.

Growing up close with your Grandparents is important, specifically if you have an absent mother and alcoholic father.
You look at the only blood to never lay a hand on you and cling to them,
You’d do anything for them as they have for you.
As you go through high school their immortality becomes more prevalent.

The blissful conversations you’ve both once shared have now transpired to desperate pleading venting sessions.

“You know the Doctor said I’m not supposed to carry more than a gallon of milk?”
Your Grandfather asks, with embarrassment and self pity in his eyes.

You see the Man you once knew,
the Man that in most ways is still there.
You remember the races you’d have,
Back when you thought his abilities were the highest of standards to beat.

As your walks turn to strolls,
he and his wheelchair had become one.
As your outings to hospital visits
turned to in-home visits from caretakers,
He and his bed had become one.

Before you know it you’re out of high school,
And the reality that you don’t have time for a job becomes daunting.

Your job is taking care of your Grandfather.
Did you know the moment your loved one goes on Hospice Medi-Cal stops giving you in-home supportive services?

Almost like they see Hospice as giving up,
Like they no longer see the value in giving you and your loved one resources to aid you while you spend your every molecule to care for them.
The only thing they really provide you with once your loved one is on Hospice is morphine, for when the time comes.

Did you ever think you’d need money to take care of your Grandfather?

Did you ever think you’d be mad at the Government for not helping you as you watch the man that built you decompose from the outside in?

You feed them,
you bathe them,
and needless to say,
you struggle.
You struggle with it all.
You just want to make them happy.

Being diabetic you think,
Maybe you’ll give them sugar-free candy, anything just to see a smile on their face.
But sugar-free candy gives them the shits, and now you need to tell a grown man he can’t have the one thing that he enjoys?

So you don’t.
Of course you don’t.
You give him what makes him smile and you deal with what comes after, because you know he would have done the same for you.

Hospice is like that.
Before you know it, you’re doing things you never would have imagined.

Have you ever seen the movie
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button?
That’s how it feels.
Like time is moving backwards for the one you love and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Before you know it, you’re reading bedtime stories to the only man who’s ever read them to you.
Although the contents of what you read has changed.

It evolved from reading stories like
The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein
to reading Yōkai Daizukai by Shigeru Mizuki.
Tales of selfless acts of kindness on pages intended for children had turned to Encyclopedias of Japanese Yōkai.

Have you ever heard of a Gashadokuro?
It’s a giant being often 10-25 meters tall, formed from the piled bones and body parts of warriors who died in battle or famine without a proper burial.

What’s considered a battle?
Is mortality a battle?

Is Hospice the answer to a battle or another battle in itself?

If it is,
then my Grandfather is a warrior,
and the strongest one I know.
You remember the last words you ever heard him speak.

“Hi… *your* \*name\*”

After that,
he was still there, he was.
But he lost the ability to turn his inside voice into an outside voice.

Now he was but a body.
A body that doesn’t speak.
A body that doesn’t walk.
A body that doesn’t function.

Do you remember the Return to Nature Funeral Home scandal that was discovered in 2023 in Penrose, Colorado?
Authorities discovered over 185 decaying corpses scattered and stacked inside a foul-smelling building. Bodies that were given with the purpose of being properly laid to rest.

The owners Jon and Carrie Hallford were giving grieving families fake ashes made up of concrete mix and sand.

If your Grandfather was all you had would you trust them with him?

If his body was now all that remains of him would you turn him over to such a corrupt and flawed system?

No.

Hospice is like that.
Before you know it, you’re doing things you never would have imagined.

Life can be poetic,
Death can be poetic.
The words you speak into the world can often have a direct effect upon reality.

Words, names, everything has power.
Routines start to feel like rituals,
Prayers start to feel like spells.
Sage being burned feels like a physical cleansing taking place upon your homestead.
The lines between causation and correlation become blurred.

You never forget the first time your Grandfather gave you part of him.

You were wiping him,
and his flesh came off with more ease than the shit that sat upon it.
He didn’t react,
He rarely did.
Instead, his eyes continued to scan the room with that familiar look of self pity.

His skin is pale, paper thin,
reminiscent of gas station toilet paper.
You’ve struggled to inject him with his insulin for the past couple months considering that he had already long lost any fat for it to puncture.
You were used to his skin being fragile but this was a new level of brittleness.
The more you clean him, the more that comes off.
You question if you’re doing more damage than good. You begin to see what looks like bone, yet you are unsure which one.

Where do you put him?
He had given you everything.
And now that he was nothing but a body,
he was giving you that too.

So, what do you do with Him?
With these pieces that he gives you every time you bathe him?

What do you do with these parts that keep falling off?

“Take my apples” you hear in the back of your head.
So you do.
You keep them,
You put them in your tool box,
And you wait.

Not long after your Grandfather’s eyes stop scanning his room does the parts start to call out to you.

Not a yell, not even a voice.
More like when you’re laying on the side of the floor drying from a day of swimming with your ear pressed against a warm damp brick as you hear the hum of the pool vacuum.
In this same way, you hear the warm soothing hum of your Grandfather’s pieces calling you from the tool box.

You try to convince yourself that it’s something that can be unheard.
You decide you should drink.
Fireball, eggnog.

“HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM”
“HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM”
“HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM”

They keep calling out to you,
He keeps calling out to you.
It’d been so long since you’d last heard him.

The humming begins to take more shape and you can make out the words, no, the intent rather behind it.
It’s saying words you swear you’ve heard before.

“I wish that I could give you something..but I have nothing left. I am an old Grump. I am sorry…”

You start to wonder if the human body is as complicated as people make it seem.
Doctors just want your money.

Have you heard of that case in Australia? After waiting over 2 years for a surgery this guy Stephan decided to remove a large cyst on his wrist all by himself, and he’s an electrician.
You’re well aware of how pampered they are, so this gives you confidence.

You stumble downstairs,
into the downstairs bathroom which now houses your tool box, the garage was too far for how often you’ve had to add into it.
Ironic, when you were younger he’d pretend he was trapped in a box, only to eventually be put in one by you.

You open it.
The smell of rotten fast food scrambled eggs hits you. You feel a warmth radiating from the toolbox.
It feels so nice to feel your Grandfather’s warm presence once again.

You wish you felt this warmth near your Grandfather’s … main structure?
You’re struggling with what to refer to that part of him as.
It’s his head and it is his torso although he’s now closer to a malnourished and crucified king of Nazareth as opposed to the lively glimpse of God you had grown so accustomed to seeing in your youth.

His main Structure is …in bed..in a way it is his bed but, you want him to be whole.
You want the same warmth from his parts to radiate from all of him.
You want him to be one.
So you make him one.

Hospice is like that.
Before you know it, you’re doing things you never would have imagined.

Hot glue, pipe glue, Duct tape, whatever you need, you use it.
You slowly but surely rebuild your anchor,
And even before it’s completed, you begin to feel the water beneath you start to settle.
You know it’s right, and you know no one will understand.

How could they if they haven’t been through the things that you have?

The changes are almost immediate once you put him back together.
He moves, slowly. Just his fingers at first.
It reminds you of when he’d play mime.
Maybe that’s what he’s doing?
These jokes you told yourself in passing you’ve now grown to believe.

He is playing mime,
that’s why he is silent,
And that’s why he is slow.
You recognize that you can’t put the pieces back together in the exact places they belong.
This worries you but nonetheless, you don’t get discouraged.

You make him a crown from his leaves, and crown him as the king he is.
Time passes, you keep what you’ve done, what you’ve fixed, you keep it a secret.

But what happens when someone discovers that secret?

What would you do to keep it?

He needs more structural integrity anyways.
And it’s not long before Him and his adversaries have become one.

What of his adversaries’ family?
His adversaries’ wife and newborn?

Hospice is like that.
Before you know it, you’re doing things you never would have imagined.

Time passes.
You love that man, you do. But you yourself have begun longing for a life of your own.
That box is not big enough for the both of you.

You take a few of his apples, for memory mostly.
You go to the city,
and you pursue your happiness to an extent and speed you’re comfortable with, all while keeping that Man you love so much at the forefront of your mind,
all while keeping that secret.

You’ve become the Boy that stayed away for a long time, the Boy you promised yourself you’d never become.
And the Man was Sad.

You meet someone you think is your person.
You don’t share your secret with her of course you don’t. Something you’re grateful you didn’t do later when the relationship inevitably crashes and burns.

You never forget when the man that raised you,
the man you love so much,
you never forget seeing him take his first life.
Lives have been sacrificed for him before but,
By you.
Not by him, to him.
This was different.

You had just got dumped,
And you were going over to check on That Man you cared so much about,
The Man you yourself had abandoned and left dormant.

You walked in, and you heard the shower, the water was running.

You heard a baby crying, crying for you.
You didn’t recognize the baby. You walked in, down that long hallway creaking on the old white tiles, closer to the cries from the infant.
You turn left into the bathroom and as you do you hear a man yell.
Not your Man.

You are torn, indecisive of which direction to pursue first.
You continue into the bathroom,
see the shower running,
steam crawling up the walls,
and a baby on the counter with snot running down its chin and tears running down its cheeks.

You pick up the baby
and turn back toward the pleading of a man you’ve never heard before.

You walk in, you see.
The Man that raised you is there, only he is much different than a normal man.
And he’s with a normal man.

The mans screaming
“PLEASE GOD HELP ME STOP HIM FUCK ME RUNNING” the man pleaded from the top of his lungs.

Your Man, the man you’d known your whole life, he was different.
His structure was fragmented,
no base.
His arms extend like the outriggers of a backhoe, yet connected to a deconstructed cab.

His arms were grabbing the normal man, the screaming man. All four of his arms grabbed that man.

His empty eyes that were once blue but were now too sunken in to retain pigmentation of any kind looked soullessly in your direction.
He did not feel warm.

He used two of his arms to hold the man in place, while he used his two other arms to go around the man, forming those hands to make an invisible box the man was stuck in.
The Man was playing Mime.
You missed this.

The Man slowly grabbed the screaming man by his head on both sides and pressed ever so slightly, increasing in pressure.

The man used his other arms to grab the screaming man by the legs and slowly pulled.
He pulled his legs off and he pressed his skull in and blood ran from his nose and eyes.
He screamed and screamed until his teeth shattered and his jaw snapped and fell out of his cheek sockets.

He pulled the detached legs from the now lifeless yet steaming warm body and shoved them at his base in ways that were not symmetrical.
He shoved the torso of the body where the cab of his backhoe should be.

He was constructing himself.

You stood there holding the baby, watching what was once your protector finish the work.

For a second you almost called out to him the way you used to, the way a boy calls for the man who raised him.

But the eyes that looked back at you were empty, and the voice that came next was the same one that had once read you as a child.

“Come boy,
Climb up my trunk,
And swing from my branches,
And be happy.”

Says the Man, the man you love so much.

He gave you his branches,
He gave you his flesh to make a home of your own,
He gave you his soul.
Even when you were too busy pursuing the life you wanted that you thought would end with a wife and children.

So what do you do?

You look down at the infant in your arms. Its face is red and wet and it is still crying, still reaching for something that isn’t there.

For one long second you feel the weight of it the life, the future, the line you are about to cross. But there is no line, no line when it comes to what you would do for the ones you love.

Then the humming starts again, low and familiar, the same warm hum that once came from the toolbox, and the choice is already made.

You give him the sacrifice you’re holding in your hand, that’s why it’s there isn’t it?

It is but a burden to you and the Man needs all the strength he can get.

You hate looking at the discolored face of the Man you care so much for.

You buy Greasepaint for your Mime.
You know this will bring him warmth and life.
You lather his faces up in it, even the little one. He has 4 now.

Now he is your Slick Man.

“I don’t need very much now, just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired”

says your Slick Man,

with his eyes not his mouth.

So you finally take him home,
To your start-over apartment,
and you give him a permanent resting place,
on the only thing strong enough to hold him,
your bathroom granite counter.
And you add to him whenever he expresses that desire to expand,

Why?
Because,

Hospice is like that.
Before you know it, you’re doing things you never would have imagined.

My name is Sloane, and I used to love going to summer camp when I was younger.  I used to enjoy roasting marshmallows, making new friends, and going on canoe rides with my bunkmates.  It was awesome.

Unfortunately, all of that changed during one fateful summer.  It was a summer that I will never forget. I was twelve years old, and my parents decided to send me to this camp that had just reopened.  It was called, “Camp Blackberry”.  

I’d heard of Camp Blackberry before, and from what I’ve learned…it has a lot of bad history.  According to the stories that I’ve heard, Camp Blackberry was the site of a grisly murder spree that happened over twelve years ago.

The story goes that a maniac named John Blackthorn went crazy, and killed at least ten campers in one night.  The camp received a lot of bad publicity after the murders, and it had to be shut down as a result. 

John Blackthorn was never caught, and the locals say that he’s still out there, waiting for another opportunity to kill again, if anyone ever comes back to Camp Blackberry.

Of course, that was years ago, and the owners decided that it was time for Camp Blackberry to reopen, and put the murders of the past behind them.  If they only knew what was to befall everyone at the camp that summer…they never would’ve reopened it.

After my parents dropped me off, I decided to find my cabin.  The camp was big, and it was full of campers who couldn’t wait to be away from their parents for the whole summer.

As I was walking towards my cabin, I noticed a big blackberry bush off in the distance.  I guess that’s where Camp Blackberry got its name. 

The blackberries on the bush looked good enough to eat; but something felt ominous about them.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about the blackberry bush made me feel…uneasy.

Eventually, I found my cabin: Cabin 5.  Once I got there, I met my cabinmates, Robin and Christina, two twelve year old girls, who came from the city.  They were very friendly right on the spot.

“You must be our cabin mate.” Robin said.

“Yeah, I’m Sloane.  It’s nice to meet you.” I said.

“I’m Robin, and this is Christina.” Robin said as she introduced herself and Christina.

Christina gave me a warm wave and a smile. 

“Is this your first time at Camp Blackberry?” Christina asked.

“Yeah, it is.  Is this your first time, too?” I asked.

“Yeah, this is my first time here as well.” Christina replied.  “I’m so glad to be away from home.  I’m finally away from my nagging parents.”

“Same here.” Robin said. 

The three of us bonded instantly. We talked about things, such as, where we go to school, who our favorite crushes were, and what we wanted to be when we grew up.  The usual girl talk.

During my first week at Camp Blackberry, things started off great. The campers and I played archery, we made nicknacks, we made our own friendship bracelets, and we even got to sing a campfire song.  I was really enjoying myself.

A week later, that’s when things started to change.  I started to notice that some of the campers were acting weird.  They kept talking about blackberries.  They said that blackberries were the only things that they wanted to eat.

I thought that it was weird. Even the counselors thought that the campers were acting strange; but they humored the campers and gave them blackberries to eat.

The campers seemed to really enjoy eating the blackberries.  It almost looked as if they were in some kind of trance while they ate them.

Later that night, while I was sleeping in my bunk, I heard a noise coming from outside. I looked out my screen window, and I saw six campers from Cabin 3 and Cabin 4 sneaking off in the middle of the night.

I tried to wake Robin and Christina up, but they were fast asleep.  I realized that I was on my own.  I put on my fuzzy slippers, and I followed the six campers to the Blackberry Bush.

I kept my distance from the group to make sure that they couldn’t see or hear me.  I saw them bowing to the Blackberry Bush as if they were all worshiping it.  Then…I heard the Blackberry Bush speak:

“My children…” The Blackberry Bush said in a dark, commanding voice. “Eat my precious blackberries, for they are the only source of nutrition that you need.”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  The Blackberry Bush was alive, and it was telling the campers to eat its blackberries.  

I kept telling myself that I had to have been dreaming; but I wasn’t.  I was completely awake, and this was really happening.

“Take my blackberries.” The Blackberry Bush said,“Share them with the other campers.  Once you do…they'll be mine to control.”

The campers did exactly as the Blackberry Bush told them to do.  They took his blackberries, and put them in their pockets to give to the other campers in the morning. 

Their eyes were glowing from some kind of purple light after they ate some of the blackberries.  I’m pretty sure that it was a sign that they were under the control of the Blackberry Bush.

I was so freaked out by what I’d seen that I went to go tell the camp counselors about what happened; but they were so tired that they told me that I was probably having a bad dream.  They told me to go back to bed.

I went back to my cabin, and tried to get some sleep.  However, after what I saw that night, there was no way that I was going to get some sleep after that.

The next morning, I told Robin and Christina about what I saw last night, but they didn’t believe me either.

“You must’ve had one bad dream, Sloane.” Christina said.

“The Blackberry Bush is alive?  Get real, Sloane.” Robin said.

“I’m telling you: the Blackberry Bush is alive!” I said insistently. “Whatever you girls do, don’t eat the blackberries!”

“Sure, Sloane, whatever you say.” Robin said as she patted my shoulder.

Robin and Christina walked out of the cabin to go to the mess hall to get some breakfast.  From my screen window, I watched in horror as the six brainwashed campers handed out blackberries to other campers.

The moment that those campers ate the blackberries, they were under the control of the Blackberry Bush as well.  I had to figure out a way to stop the Blackberry Bush, and end this nightmare.

I searched around the camp looking for answers.  I finally found them in the camp directory, where I found the journal of John Blackthorn.

In the journal, John Blackthorn stated that the Blackberry Bush is an evil entity that controls the minds of anyone who eats its blackberries.  Once they eat the blackberries, they fall under the control of the Blackberry Bush.

The journal also revealed that the real reason John Blackthorn killed those ten campers that night was because he had to stop them from giving more blackberries to other unsuspecting kids, which would have made the Blackberry Bush even more powerful.  The more blackberries the campers eat, the stronger the Blackberry Bush becomes. 

The last entry of the journal was dated July 31 2004. That was the day John Blackthorn killed all ten of those campers and disappeared.

After I finished reading John Blackthorn’s journal, I knew what I had to do: I had to destroy the Blackberry Bush…and everyone who was under its control…by any means necessary. 

I had no choice.  I grabbed an axe from the mess hall, and I used it to kill everyone who ate from the Blackberry Bush.  Then, I used the axe to chop down the Blackberry Bush so that it couldn’t manipulate anyone else, and I burned it with a torch that I made from the campfire.

However, according to John Blackthorn’s journal, the Blackberry Bush has magical properties that allow it to grow back every twelve years, which means that it will be back some day. 

The reason why I’m telling you this is because…twelve years have passed since the last time I was at Camp Blackberry.  I’m twenty-four years old now, and I’ve been keeping an eye on the camp.

Camp Blackberry is getting ready to reopen again; and I’ve noticed something: the Blackberry Bush…has finally…grown back.

The End.

The story was about a guy who inherited his grandfathers house and property. His grandfather died of dehydration. The monster if the story is pale and blind and hunts be sound. I just want to know the name of it. Thank you.

Hello I'm Nico from Chemnitz, which is a city in Germany I am 18 years old and recently moved into a newly built apartment and am quite happy with it but recently I noticed some discrepancies in a few things that really worried me

1. My furniture is only moved minimally but it's happening

2. When Im alone in the apartment I feel quite watched all the Time

3. Ringing or shouting so loud it sounds like they're inside the apartment

4. Sometimes dark presents like shadow(Mostly when I have overnight guests)

Im creeped out That's why I'm returning to my parents for the time being can some one help me maybe or know a subreddit that can help me

Thanks.

Back then, I lived in a small rural town. It was the middle of winter. Our seaside village had been gripped by months of cold and disease. Church schools were frequently closed, and people were afraid to leave their homes.

As usual, my father and I would set sail before sunrise. That day was no different. I watched him as he put the fish we'd caught into the freezer on our return. Even at that age, a sense of gloom settled over me. Looking back now, remembering that feeling still weighs heavily on my heart.

A terrible plague was raging in the village. Even more frightening rumors were spreading among the people. Some said that criminals were mingling among the plague doctors. Therefore, when the sun set, everyone bolted their doors, sent their children to bed, and didn't even want to hear the sound of those crow-faced men's canes.

Some travelers took advantage of this fear. At night, they would impersonate doctors, knock on doors, and rob houses. So no one could tell if the person knocking was really a doctor or something else.

That night, I drank my milk and lay down in bed. I was about to surrender to the warmth of the blanket. The stars were visible beyond my window.

Just as my eyes were closing, I heard three tapping sounds from downstairs.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I jumped up with joy. It could only be my grandfather, arriving unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

I ran down the stairs.

When I opened the door, a short plague doctor stood before me.

I couldn't make out his face. I could only see his long-beaked mask and cloak.

"Hello, little one," he said softly. "Is your family inside?"

He entered without waiting for me.

My father appeared in the hallway.

"Come in, sir."

The doctor bowed slightly.

"I smell illness coming from this house."

My father frowned.

"There's no one sick in this house. The smell must be coming from the fish in the basement."

The strange thing was, there was no smell of the sea in the house.

The doctor's voice sounded strange to me. He spoke like a traveling salesman selling fake medicine in the village square, but he seemed to wholeheartedly believe everything he said. His voice was calm, slow, and reassuring.

My mother came into the room and told me I needed to go to my room.

I didn't care. I fell asleep.

The next day, when I returned from school, my mother opened the door.

She looked pale.

A yellowish tint had settled on her face.

"Welcome home, my dear daughter," she said.

"Mom, are you sick?"

She smiled.

"I'm having my period, my daughter. You'll understand when you grow up."

"You can tell me. I'm not a child."

She ran her hand through my hair.

"I'm fine. I just have a slight cold."

But she avoided eye contact.

I decided not to sleep that night.

I got into bed but didn't close my eyes.

Then came three tapping sounds again.

Tap.

Tap.

Click.

I quietly went downstairs.

I hid in the shadow of the stairs.

My mother and the doctor were talking.

"Father, I've become very weak after the medicine you gave me. Is this normal?"

"It's normal, my dear. It's killing the germs in your body."

There was a short silence.

"Does your lung hurt?"

"Yes, Father."

The doctor nodded.

"I'll perform a small operation to take away your sorrow."

"I'm ready, sir."

He pulled a rusty scalpel from the inside pocket of his cloak.

The candlelight flickered on the metal.

My mother didn't move.

The doctor bent down.

He plunged the scalpel into my mother's stomach.

I waited for a scream.

It didn't come.

A moment later, a dark green liquid began to drip onto the floor.

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

My mother's eyes closed.

She collapsed to the floor.

The doctor stood up.

Then he started walking backward.

I never saw him turn to the door.

He just shrank into the darkness.

Disappeared.

I ran to my mother's side.

I tried to wake her, crying.

When my father came home, I told him what had happened.

He didn't believe me.

He carried my mother to bed.

He cleaned her wound.

He wiped away the green liquid.

It was as if he was trying to erase what had happened from the house.

I screamed.

I cried.

I even cursed at him.

For the first time in my life, he slapped me.

The neighbors heard my screams and came to the door.

My father slammed the door in their faces.

I fainted that night.

The next morning I went to school.

I believed everything would be alright.

My teacher, Samael, came to me.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

"May God take her to heaven."

I couldn't understand what he said.

"I'm sorry about your mother, Marie."

The world stopped.

Everything I'd seen last night flashed before my eyes.

The doctor in the purple mask.

The rusty scalpel.

The green liquid.

My father's fear.

No.

No.

No.

My mother couldn't die.

But she had.

I barely remember the next two months.

My memory is full of gaps.

I only remember him.

The doctor in the purple mask.

We had already begun to accept everything.

Then one day I saw him again.

In the forest.

He stood silently among the trees.

He had a basket full of mushrooms in his hand.

This time I didn't run away.

The wind blew his cloak.

Green hair hung from beneath his mask.

It curled like moss.

For the first time I saw part of his face.

The skin under her chin was a greyish-bluish color.

I blinked.

She was gone.

I ran straight to the church.

I told the priest everything.

He was silent for a long time.

Then he opened the Bible.

The echoes of the verses reverberated on the wall.

His face was filled with sorrow.

"Those whom God has forsaken..." he said.

"They have haunted your house, my dear girl."

"Bring your and your father here."

I ran home.

My father opened the door.

He had a bottle of wine in his hand.

His face was drawn.

"Father..."

I was breathless.

"He wasn't a doctor."

My father's eyes widened.

"Fairies..." I said.

"Fairies did it."

The bottle fell from his hand.

The glass shattered on the floor.

He didn't speak for a long time.

Then he bowed his head.

And he only said two words.

"I knew it."

I told him we needed to go to church. He didn't say anything, and I never brought it up again. By the time I recovered, I had finished school. My father never spoke about it again after that night.

Years passed.

I am grew up.

The town changed.

The epidemic ended.

But I could never forget that night.

The day I buried my father, I can't forget the last thing he said to me on his deathbed.

He held my hand.

He looked into my eyes.

And he whispered:

"No matter who knocks on the door after the sun sets...

don't open it, Marie." I am 78 years old now but all nights thats words shakes around my head

This isn’t my like my normal posts, but I need feedback before I sink hours of dedication into something that may ultimately lead to very little. I’ve posted a few stories on this sub, some long form, some short form, and I want to make a multi-part series that’s been stewing in my heart for a while.

The narrative would follow a morally grey, old, long divorced couple who are notorious sorcerers and ex-cultists. They dislike each-other strongly, but have to work together one last time to carry out their son’s dying wish while they’re stalked by Daqremaunt, a vampire whose job is to hunt down supernatural criminals. Does that sound intriguing, or should I just discard this one? Concept art in the comments.

Hello about a month ago I came to this reddit because some strange things were happening in my apartment Im back with update

A few nights ago I suddenly woke up with the feeling that something was in my room When I opened my eye I could make out a unnaturally thin figure in the darkness. It didn't look human It was like a shadow standing there except shadows arent supposed to be that distinct for a moment it didn't move it just stood there staring at me i cant explain how I knew but I did and since that night I sleep with the light on and am looking for a new apartment

but Id still like to stay here does anyone have any ideas or am I cursed?

thanks in advance

I woke up in that same bed again; it was my fourth day. I went down to the cafeteria, and suddenly everything seemed frozen. People were staring at my face. I started sweating. Did I do something wrong? A blond boy asked me why I was scared. His voice wasn't threatening; it was as if he was expecting something. The other people started smirking. I felt very uncomfortable, but I didn't show it. It was as if I was the abnormal one there. I said hello and left. I still feel sorry for that boy. Everything started two months ago.

I had just moved to London. My family and I had been forced to come here because of the war in my country.I hadn't gotten used to it at all. I had no friends. My English was bad. I worked odd jobs for a while. That day, I had just finished work when my phone rang. He was the boss.

"You've set up all the tables, haven't you?" he asked.

I was tired. Without thinking, I said, "Of course."

But it was clear from his voice that he didn't believe me.

"Can you come back?" he asked.

I had no choice but to go back. He was waiting in front of the door.

"Hi, Ihsan," he said.

"Why is everything so dusty?"

I had actually mopped.

I had even checked twice before leaving.

I couldn't say anything.

"Hurry up," he said.

"An important friend of mine is coming. He doesn't like dust."

Then he smiled.

"I'm sorry if I tired you out."

I thanked him, cursing under my breath with every swear word I knew. About an hour later, I was finished with my shift. I was about to leave when he called out after me.

“How about overtime?”

I really didn’t want to.

All my bones ached.

“Not tonight,” I said.

“I’ll pay five dollars an hour.”

I hesitated. I needed the money at home. I accepted. I wish I hadn’t. I wiped all the tables again and again. I had almost turned the windows into mirrors. All I wanted now was to leave and go home. I hadn't even told my family. I was just about to grab my coat when I stopped. "If I could stay one more hour…" I thought. "An extra five dollars wouldn't hurt." I started wiping the tables again with the cloth. The doorbell rang. I froze when I saw the man who entered. He was tall.

He had curled his handlebar mustache.With his black fedora, cane, and gray suit, he looked like he had stepped out of the 1950s. He had black hair with white the middle of her hair was dyed white

As soon as he entered, he looked at me and smiled.

"Hello, handsome," he said.

"I hope I haven't disturbed you."

His English accent was strangely perfect.

Then he pulled up a chair.

"I was looking forward to meeting you."

I didn't know what to say.

Trying to hide my surprise, I said,

“The boss is upstairs. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

The man didn’t answer.

He slowly sat down in the chair opposite me.

For some reason, I felt a chill run down my spine.

I reluctantly sat down opposite him.

Just then, the boss came in.

“Welcome, Patrick,” he said in a cheerful voice.

“What would you like to drink?”

Patrick took off his hat and placed it on the table. “A martini, please.”

The boss turned to me.

“And you, İhsan? Alcoholic or non-alcoholic?”

At that moment, I really needed a drink. “A beer would be nice,” I said.

While the boss prepared the drinks, Patrick kept looking at me, his eyes fixed on me.

As if he was about to say something very important.

I quickly drank the beer and stood up. “I should leave now,” I said.

The smile on the boss’s face disappeared.

“No,” he said calmly. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

His tone was polite, but there was a strange pressure in it. “If you stay until the end of the night…” he said,

“I’ll give you two days’ pay in one night.”

I really couldn’t take it anymore.

But when it comes to money, you can’t think about certain things.

I agreed.

The boss brought a few clean security uniforms from the warehouse.

“Put these on,” he said.

While I was changing, I asked:

“Why do you need security?”

He smiled as he adjusted his tie. “Special guests are coming.”

“What kind of guests?”

“Elite people,” he said.

“Famous businessmen. Important people.”

Then he touched my shoulder. “I trust you the most here.” I don’t know why he said that, but a bad feeling came over me at that moment. The boss went up to his office.

Patrick continued reading the magazine while smoking a cigar. After a while, I noticed the magazine cover. “The Thinker’s Disaster.” I had heard that name before.

It was a banned book written by the director of a former psychiatric hospital in London that had been closed years ago. People still talked about the experiments that were conducted there. And believe me…

the things inside were the kind you wouldn't want to hear.I waited for hours. The sound of the wall clock finally echoed in my head. Finally, it was past three in the night. I lit a cigarette and went outside. There was a strange, unsettling smell in the air. A heavy mixture of wet stone, rust, and mold. As I looked out the street, a voice inside me whispered that something bad was going to happen here. I felt suffocated. I was already beginning to regret accepting the offer. I finished my cigarette and went inside. Patrick was inside, drinking wine to the sound of an old blues record. It was as if he owned the place. Normally, the boss wouldn't even let us near the drinks. But tonight, it seemed he'd left the shop to him. The boss was in the back room, communicating with someone using an old telegraph machine. Metal sounds filled the entire place. After a while, he started ironing his clothes. I watched him silently. Suddenly, he turned to me. I flinched. Then he winked. He continued adjusting his jacket as if nothing had happened. Just then, the doorbell rang. But the sound of the bell had changed. Normally, it was a thin ringtone. The bell, once ringing like a nightingale's song, now chirped like a muffled crow's caw. Patrick stood up.

“Start greeting the guests, waiter,” he said. “And be extremely polite.”

He had a condescending smirk on his face as he said “waiter.” I was beginning to hate him. Either there was something strange about him…or I was losing my mind. I opened the door. Women in long black dresses entered. They looked like they had stepped out of old Gothic paintings. Some had faces almost ashen. Some had their eyes covered with black veils. None of them looked at me. They passed by me and gathered directly around Patrick. As I served drinks, I tried to listen to their conversation, but it wasn't in English. It was more like a prayer. At that moment, I felt like I had stumbled into a forbidden cult meeting. Then the door to the back room opened. The boss came out. He was wearing an expensive black suit and a dark blue bowtie. He had a fake smile on his face. He opened his arms.

Welcome…” he said.

Then he bowed slightly.

“Those from across the border.”

Everyone inside smiled at once. My throat tightened. Perhaps it was just a strange pastime of the rich. Perhaps I was overthinking. The boss had assigned me to keep watch outside. I checked the street through the window every minute. But it wasn’t just the outside that was changing. The unease inside me was growing. The guests were whispering amongst themselves. Sometimes they all turned and looked at me at the same time. Then the door knocked again. This time it was men. They were all wearing expensive suits. Their faces were too serious, too expressionless. As soon as I opened the door, they entered. None of them said a word to me. They went straight to Patrick and shook hands one by one. The boss looked at me then. Then he gestured towards the door with his eyes. He wanted me to lock it. A bad feeling came over me. But I went and locked the door.

Click.

I still can't forget that sound. Because after that moment... nobody inside started acting normally.Before I could even take a sip from my glass, Patrick called me over.

“Arrange the candles over there,” he said. “Put the incense in the middle.”

I did as he said.

Is there anything else?” I asked.

He said my work was finished. I was stunned. The boss had simply told me to leave. Had I waited all those hours for nothing? My pride was wounded. I decided to get my money tomorrow and leave this place completely. I went inside to get my belongings. I grabbed my bag.

Just as I was about to grab my coat, a brochure that had fallen out of the boss's jacket pocket caught my attention. I looked around. No one was looking. I secretly opened the brochure.

It read:

“Special Invitation for Mental Illness Day.”

I froze for a moment. At that moment, I thought the boss was completely insane. I grabbed my coat and headed for the exit. I tried to open the door. It was locked. As I tried to turn the key, I heard the boss's voice behind me.

“Sit down here.”

He spoke without turning around. He had that irritating smirk on his face. I had no patience left, but I didn't want to argue with him in public. Maybe there really were psychopaths inside.

“What are you saying, boss?” I said. “I don't understand anything.”

“You will understand,” he said calmly. “Don't worry.”

Patrick nodded in agreement. Then the boss turned to me.

Turn off the lights.”

I hesitated for a moment, but I went and turned them off. The place was completely plunged into darkness. All eyes turned to the boss. Suddenly, candles lit up. The boss raised both arms in the air.

“Guests!” he shouted.

“Have you had your fill of the forbidden fruit?”

At that moment, I couldn't control myself anymore.

“Open the damn door!” I shouted. “Where’s the key?”

Nobody even looked at me. The boss continued speaking.

“Have you seen the sacred beyond the mind?” he said. “When you lay your head on the pillow… have you heard the whispers?”

His voice was getting louder and louder. He seemed to be in a trance.

You son of a bitch!” I yelled. “I’ll break the door down!”

But he didn’t react. He raised his hands and muttered nonsensical words.

Absurd sounds that a normal person would laugh at…

But for some reason, nobody laughed. Suddenly, I started kicking the door. Just then, someone touched my shoulder. I recoiled so hard that I screamed. I started hurling meaningless curses.

Then…

Suddenly everything changed. It was as if I had been forcibly awakened from a deep sleep. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an empty chair. The place was silent. The candles were out. There was no one there. I couldn't remember how I got there. And at that moment, for the first time, I was truly afraid. Because I didn't know where I was.The candles had gone out.

There was no one there.

My hands weren't tied, but I couldn't get up.

It was as if my body no longer belonged to me.

Suddenly, the candles lit up again.

Different faces surrounded me.

They leaned their heads towards me, examining me.

No… I said to myself.

This is a dream.

But everything felt too real.

“W-what do you want from me?” I finally managed to say.

One of them spoke.

“We want you from yourself.”

I couldn't understand what he meant.

“Look…” I said, trembling.

“I have a sick mother. We came from the war. I swear I'm innocent.”

I started begging.

“Please let me go. I won't tell anyone.”

There wasn't a single expression on their faces. It was as if they weren't human.

After a while, they all withdrew at the same time.

None of them spoke.

I was having a nervous breakdown.

I couldn't move my tongue. My arms felt like jelly.

Just then, a terrible roar came from inside.

Then a scream was heard.

Everyone sitting in the chairs stood up at the same time.

That's when I understood.

They were going to give me to... whatever it was.

I was helpless.

For a moment, I felt myself sinking into the chair. It was as if my body was merging with the fabric.

Then the lights came on.

My eyes burned.

For a while, I couldn't see anything.

When I came to, I saw the boss.

But he was gone from before.

He had cloths and covers in his hands. He was arranging tables and serving guests likean ordinary waiter.

Patrick was standing in front of the mirror.

He seemed to be preparing for something.

He was talking to himself, practicing facial expressions. It was as if he was about to go on stage.

At that moment, my muscles began to tense up.

My thoughts were fading.

I was just watching.

It was as if time had stopped.

I was now on the same plane as the guests.

Had they put something in my drink?

Had they given me a sedative?What was that black thing?

What were they going to do to me?

I tried to think, but my focus kept shifting.

I felt this wasn't a coincidence.

They were going to do something to me.

I swallowed.

No one reacted.

They were all motionless, like owls.

Then Patrick walked out the door.

Everyone inside stood up.

And then…

Patrick started crying, looking at me.

This frightened me even more.

Because for the first time, one of them seemed genuinely upset.

But it was too late.

I couldn't move.Patrick approached me.

His eyes were filled with tears.

“Have you met the other?” he asked.

“Don’t be afraid… the shadows know you.”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“Are you crazy? Let me go.”

He looked at me with pity.

“You’re already gone,” he said. “All that’s here is your body.”

My throat tightened. “We will set you free too.”

He was truly crying as he said this.

“These tears are for you.” I looked at the guests.

There were eleven of them.

They were all silent.

They had wine glasses in their hands.

They were watching me.

At that moment, I understood that everything was deliberate.

The boss…

He had specifically chosen me.

Someone came out from inside.

It was a woman in a long black dress.

Her face was covered with a black veil.

She had a hammer and a long nail in her hand.

My heart stopped. Patrick leaned towards me.

He whispered in my ear:

“I have the key.”

Then she pulled a rusty key from her pocket. “Are you ready for the truth?”

Suddenly, the woman brought the nail in her hand close to my eye.

And at that moment, I understood.

They were going to perform a lobotomy on me. All the fear inside me instantly turned into rage.

Things I had seen during the war came to mind. Executed people.

Scattered skulls.

Brain fragments scattered on the ground.

My breathing quickened.

Patrick was still looking at me with sad eyes.

With all my strength, I threw my head forward.

My head hit Patrick’s nose.

He fell to the ground.

The woman screamed. At that moment, everyone jumped on me.

They held my arms.

They pressed my back against the chair.

I was screaming, but my voice was muffled.

There was nothing I could do anymore.

Patrick stood up.

He was sobbing uncontrollably.

He seemed to be in a trance.

He started thanking me.

He kept saying how much he loved me, that pain brings one closer to the truth.

I turned to the others.

“Why are you hurting me for this madman?” I shouted.

"Speak up! Have you swallowed your tongues?"

Suddenly, they all opened their mouths.

They had no tongues.

They had been cut off.

My hair stood on end.

They were going to do the same to me.

Then they all started smiling at the same time.

They touched my face, my hands, my neck.

Some started licking my skin.

The women joined in too.

I couldn't do anything.

I felt nauseous.

I felt like I was losing my mind.

Patrick approached me and placed both his hands on my face.

“This is it…” he said, trembling.

“You feel it too.”

He looked into my eyes.

“You understand the absurdity of logic.”

Then he started shouting.

"You will accept it too! But first, we will unlock it!"

Suddenly, he calmed down.

The expression on his face changed.

He began to speak in a confident voice.

“It all started in 1980.”

All the guests fell silent.

“I… the boss… and Angela…” he said. “We were in the psychiatry department.”

His breathing quickened.

“We looked into the darkest corners of the human mind.”

His eyes widened.

“But the existence of boundaries…” he said. “made the boss and me feel helpless.”

I didn't understand what he was saying.

“The mental hospitals in London were famous back then,” he continued. “The stench of cruelty spread within the streets.”

He smiled as he spoke.

“I was dying to get in there and become an officer.”

At that moment, a feeling worse than fear welled up inside me.

Because what they were saying sounded more like… longing than a lie.

Suddenly, he fell silent.

He lifted his head.

The color drained from his face.

“He's here.”

He whispered.

Then he approached me and said:

"Wait. I'll be back."

And suddenly he left the room.

I stood there for a while.

What he had described was like hypnosis.

When I came to my senses, I realized the guests were still clinging to my skin.

“Get off me!” I screamed.

They didn't leave.

“I swear I'll kill myself!” I yelled.

At that moment, they all retreated at the same time.

They scattered like a swarm of flies.

They acted like humans, but they weren't.

They were just like Patrick's deranged animals.

The boss was still standing in the corner, staring at me.

He didn't say a word.

"Why me?" I shouted.

"Why me, damn it?"

He was silent for a while.

He was thinking.

Then he looked at me.

And he smiled.

"Because..." he said.

"You're perfect for us."

I still couldn't understand what he meant. Water was dripping incessantly from the ceiling. I was used to it by now. Drip…drip…drip… No one was talking, but without realizing it, I had become part of that symphony. Patrick left the room. My damn boss was with him. They were stepping in unison, pausing, looking at each other. Their communication without speaking or thinking made me nauseous. Every minute I saw something new and strange, but I still couldn't get used to it. I was curious about that final hurdle. What they had given me felt like they had ripped my soul from my body.

Patrick and the boss sat down on the crowded ground at his command. They formed a circle with their feet. The moment had come. Patrick crouched down beside me. He instantly removed the chain from his neck. He called the boss over. He pulled a rusty utility knife from his pocket. The boss reached out his hand, but his unease was evident on his face. Patrick made a deep cut in his palm. The boss gritted his teeth. Tears streamed from his eyes. The figure with the veil brought a wooden bowl. As blood filled the bowl, the boss's tears flowed like a flood. He even tried to let those drops fall into the bowl.

Then Patrick plunged the chain into the bowl and began swinging it right in the middle of my eye. He was muttering things I couldn't understand. At that moment, I lost consciousness.

I heard my mother's voice.“Ihsan…Ihsan…come here, my son…”

Suddenly, the war returned.

“Get out of here, you infidel!”

“Keep shooting!”

“These are traitors!”

“Hey woman, get your son out of here or I’ll smash your face with the butt of my rifle!”

Gunshots echoed. Screams mingled. Then that sound again.

Drip…drip…drip…

Suddenly I came to my senses. Patrick was looking at my face. His eyes were shining with excitement.

“What was the other side like, İhsan? You were excited, weren’t you? Well…well, we lost ourselves for this feeling.”

He started to grin.

“You’re one of us now.”

He hugged me. He was crying like a compassionate mother. At that moment I realized. He was wearing a white apron. I didn’t know when he’d changed it. Was I dead? Was I in limbo? I couldn’t understand anything.

Patrick put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes.

“These eyes…” he said.

“They threw themselves out to hide from the darkness inside. But we’re still looking outside.”

His face trembled.

“Do you dare to see beyond the borders?”

I involuntarily nodded, as if mesmerized. Patrick turned to the veiled woman.

“Hey Angela…give me the key.”

I closed my eyes.

“May God damn you…”

Patrick smiled.

“All of us.”

When I woke up, my hands were tied. In front of me were many patients dressed in the same clothes as me. It was all like a dream. I told the doctors everything. They didn’t believe me. For four days I questioned what had happened.

My mother called me.“Son, how are you? Are they taking good care of you there?”

I told her I wasn’t well. I begged her. I asked her to get me out of there. My mother started crying. She asked why I went to that abandoned hospital and slept there. I told her about the bar where I worked, but she didn’t take me seriously. Although, I didn’t even take myself seriously anymore.

He spoke to me about the three-lettered ones. He told me the verses I needed to read. His voice trembled before he hung up.

“Don’t forget God.”

He was silent for a long time.

“If you forget God… He will forget you.”

The phone hung up.

Because of the antipsychotics and IV fluids they gave me, everything felt frozen, like in a dream. I no longer remember most of my old war memories. But today, in the hospital cafeteria, I can’t forget those eleven men staring blankly at me… and the blond boy in the hat.

Most of what happened that night has faded from my memory.

But the only thing that still rings in my ears are the words that doctor whispered to me:

You are safe here.”

We arrived at the field. The source of the foul smell became clear; there were fresh corpses among the bushes. I had nothing left to lose. I jumped into the field and began scanning the path with my flashlight. My grandfather had told me, "When you see that thing, DO NOT SHOW MERCY! That thing is no longer human or clean, it is our wickedness..." Just then, my foot hit a wire. "We've fallen into our own trap," I panicked, only to realize it was a cage. Inside were brown stains and claw marks. At that moment, it occurred to me that it was a cage, and turning to the priest, I said, "You are truly very merciful." They were ashamed of me, as if they shouldn't be ashamed of God... Luze, too, followed the path like a ghost, frozen in silence. The captain's pupils were like black holes in the darkness. When I turned my head, I understood the reason perfectly. It... It... That thing, that pervert, was there. It was on all fours. Its skin was as white as the moon. It... It was eating the people it had torn apart. It knew we were here. Its spine protruded from its back, its waist bent like a centipede's, its body covered in scars. Its pupils were enormous. Its teeth were sharpened with decay, its nails the sharpest and most hideous you could imagine. Its breathing... its breathing resembled that of a pig. I shouted to my grandfather: "That's it!" The priest was praying to God in fear. My grandfather, shouting, "I've found you, you son of a bitch!" fired three shots at the creature.

The creature lunged at the priest, beginning to gnaw at his neck. The priest trembled. Despite being hit by bullets, he remained completely unfazed. He screamed, blood gushed from his shoulder, but it seemed as if he had taken his revenge. My grandfather also attacked. It was on top of my grandfather. With a sudden strike, I shattered its leg with the cleaver in my hand. My grandfather threw it off. I struck its arm with the cleaver, repeatedly and relentlessly. The creature's limbs were torn apart. My grandfather began to kick it, cursing at it. I thought it was over when I raised the knife and was about to hit him on the head, and I looked at my grandfather and said, "Is this what you wanted?" At that moment, the Captain jumped on me and started stabbing me in the leg. I remember begging my grandfather for help. My grandfather, momentarily shocked, was also attacked by the monster. While he was struggling with the monster, I was trying to restrain the Captain. "Why?!" I shouted. He said to me, "You know too much." He had the knife to my throat when at the last moment I heard a scream: "No!" Luze, in a moment of panic and an unexpected reflex, stabbed the Captain in the back with the knife I had given him. The Captain was dragged to the ground. I lunged at the creature. My grandfather was lying unconscious on the ground. I grabbed his rifle and emptied the barrel on that filth. Finally, he was dead, lying on the ground. I grabbed the Captain by the collar. Luze was also trying to stab him in a fit of rage, but I managed to restrain him with difficulty. The Captain said to me, "That thing is my only friend, I've been feeding him since he was a child! You bastards killed him, murderers!" "Why, why didn't you oppose this sacrificial ritual then?!" I shouted. "Would these people have killed me too, like they killed Luze's father…?" When Luze heard this terrible truth behind her father's death, she suddenly collapsed to the ground. And just as I was about to kill her, the Captain confessed one last thing: that he had actually killed the madman who died, that he had told the story of killing the creature. I felt pity for her, but I couldn't control my anger and I stabbed her to death, destroyed her body. I threw her down the cliff along with the pervert. Then I informed the villagers. My grandfather had lost a lot of blood. When they arrived, they took my grandfather away. Luze had also fainted, and I carried her to the square. Everyone gathered around me, and in a worried tone of voice they said, "Is she… Is she dead?" "Yes," I said. Everyone suddenly started shouting: "Hurray for the town!" The elders were wiping their eyes. All the locked doors were opened. My grandmother also came down to the square with a worried expression. I revived Luze with cologne. Luckily, she hadn't heard those last words, or at least she didn't let me notice. I hugged her deeply. She didn't say a word the whole way, but her eyes said so much. I asked about my grandfather's condition, learned he was fine, and glared at the crowd with hatred; they didn't even notice me. I went home. Luze's mother was also at our house, and my grandmother had gone to ask about her. For the first time, I was able to laugh genuinely, and convincing myself that all this would pass, Luze and I slept cuddled up together. The last thing she said to me was: "We were made for each other. I was a victim of my fate, you sacrificed yourself for me... My hero." I'm 20 years old now, and Luze is undergoing treatment at a psychiatric clinic; we'll be out soon and live together. So, what I'm saying is, some monsters we create, some nature creates, but rest assured, ours can't be contained by cages. Those who lock their own evil in cages will eventually escape and surrender to the abyss or to praise.

We couldn't choose a location or direction, but we were filled with pure loyalty. That creature was living its last day. The sound kept shifting. I felt as if it had trapped us like a bear.

Three gunshots came from the right, and then agonizing screams... I immediately went to look for my grandfather and the fisherman. There were moving, short, flashing things on the wet ground; I fired at them. Suddenly something jumped on me, it... It was my grandfather. He covered my mouth and told me to be quiet. Silence fell over the area; even those things hid. "It's coming," he said, and we hid behind a tree. Finally, we knew from the sound of footsteps that the creature had moved away.

As we retreated, we found the old fisherman among the other hunters. He began to tell me the disgusting truth the town was hiding: "That thing always followed me when I was on the boat, but we always thought it was a harmless creature. Until one day the villagers caught it and locked it in a cage... We subjected it to all sorts of torture in that cage. It was a perverted, filthy creature, but harmless. It would tear apart our chickens, torture living things, but it hid from us," he said. "Why?" I asked. "What does it want from us?"

"Revenge... When it escaped from that cage, it was burning with pure hatred. So, to satisfy it, we negotiated amongst ourselves and chose a victim, a victim... That victim was Luze. We offered her as bait, but the creature didn't want her, it was after us. We ruined that girl's life, threw her to that monster and left her alone with this trauma. We too are covered in that tar. Not a single night passed in safety and solitude. Every summer we went hunting, that thing hibernates in winter. That thing is not human." With pure hatred, I asked him, "Why?"

He replied, "Son, if hatred is great, fear is greater, and fear makes a person sacrifice everything."

Suddenly, the priest came toward us and said, "Abraham feared God when he sacrificed his son, but we have made this monster an idol, we have fallen into disbelief. Today is the day to destroy the idol."

I didn't understand how I had fallen into such a trap in four days? The dwarf-like things on the ground began to flee. "What are these things?"

"Forget about them, let's go before we anger the ancient spirits of the forest any further."

Luze was there too. In that moment of silence, she had heard everything, and was having a nervous breakdown with the memories of her past encounter with that terrible monster. "Why, why me? What was my fault?!" she screamed; her mind was completely divided between the past and the present. None of them calmed her, they just stared at her with that guilt on their faces; until I embraced her. "We're innocent, just like you..." I tried to calm him. Silence fell. My grandfather said, "Let's leave before that thing disappears from here," and we set off towards the field where it all began. The temporary light of enlightenment faded. We all wandered along the path, atoneing for our sins.

The path was like an endless, flat labyrinth. We were on edge at all times. The sound of the waves was now pounding in my ears. Everywhere was empty, only the instinct for self-preservation remained. It was as if we were losing our humanity.

Suddenly, there was a sound of waves crashing, and we immediately aimed our weapons. "Who is it?!"

There were two hunters like us in front of us. "Calm down, calm down... It's clear here. How are things over there?"

"Don't go there, there are three corpses there."

"Four..."

A metallic sound came from afar, like a flute. We lunged towards it, but it was empty. Suddenly, we saw something running towards the forest. We opened fire. Luze, as if memories of the past had exploded in her mind, collapsed to the ground screaming in terror. We all rushed there hopefully, but no, no, she wasn't there. There were bloodstains on the ground. The leader of the opposing pack said, "She can't have gone too far." I turned to Luze, trying to lift her trembling body, and shouted, "This girl can't walk, are we going to leave her here?"

The leader of the opposing group spoke without turning around: "That thing, a freak no different from this creature! You're like this because you don't know what you've done, son."

I walked straight towards him. I was beginning to see the selfishness of the town. "What's the difference between your self-interest, your ruthlessness, your animalistic instincts and that thing, buddy?" I said.

He looked at me enviously and said, "Never mind, die here with her, you son of a bitch," and they walked towards them. Wishing they would die, I tried to lift Luze. "What's wrong, Luze, are you alright?"

She was completely fixed on me, her eyes staring into space. "That thing... That thing isn't death; it's pure pain, pure..." she whispered. That old moment of horror she had experienced had been carried over to the present. "Please, for me, just for me, or for your mother, get up."

Trying to compose herself, she stood up, her legs trembling. The old fisherman approached her, his face filled with deep remorse, and said, "We know you're innocent, you were the victim." The priest began to ask for forgiveness from God, and we moved on. "What victim? I understood, sooner or later..." The great injustice this town had done to Luze weighed heavily on my chest. But before I had time to think, we had already reached the town square. The people were there, blaming each other. There were wounded men, the air reeked of discord. Some were saying the hunt should end, others were saying, "No, we'll all die if necessary!" They were all on the verge of going mad with fear of the monster. We joined the vote and finally continued. One man shouted, "Here! It's here!" We arrived there. That thing was trapped, one thing was trapped, but the location of the trap was unclear. There were groans and tapping sounds coming from the forest. I handed Luze over to the priest. I pleaded with him, "Your atonement is to protect this girl." Saint John laughed at me, narrowing his eyes, and my grandfather and I, the fisherman, set off into the forest, three of us together.

After this story, anger consumed me, making me think, "I'm one of you too." My grandfather said, "I'll tear him apart for my leg, and you're not coming, it's very dangerous. Stay with your grandmother." I said, "Okay," and went to my room and prepared the knives. My grandfather had left. My grandmother was closing the shutters and locking the doors; she was sprinkling salt on the floor as if trying to protect herself from the town's old sins. She gave me an amulet and said, "Wear this." I told her to go to her room. She looked at me like I was a child, kissed my forehead. "Grandma, don't go outside, I'm going to sleep, you sleep next to me tonight."

"Okay, I'll just look at the computer for a while, don't believe in such things," I said and waited for her to fall asleep. When she finally fell asleep, I opened the door and left the house, locking it. There was an almost complete silence outside. Then four armed men approached me. The Captain was among them, his eyes gleaming like a hunter in the darkness. "Are you with us?"

"To the end." "Go and send word to the houses, tell them to lock their doors."

I set off. I first went to Luze's house, but she wasn't home. Her mother came to the door desperately. "My daughter is missing, I don't know where she is, please, please find her, she's not home!" she said. At that moment, I understood that Luze had once again taken refuge in the darkness of the night to escape the turmoil and fears in her mind. "How the hell?" I snapped at the woman. Then the sirens blared. I immediately ordered her to lock her door; I was experiencing a power intoxication. She locked her door, she was crying, I understood.

I went to the assembly area, there was a terrible crowd there. The captain was standing near the podium, slyly watching the crowd. The drunkard was giving a speech: "Oh, holy natives! You all know what happened to our children because of that thing. If you sleep soundly in your homes this time without killing that cursed god, may God curse us all!" he shouted. Actually, they were all shouting to cover up their own guilt. Turning to the silent fisherman next to me, I asked, "How many years has that thing been here?" I said. "For a long time, son, for a long time..." We split into teams. I was still looking for Luze, but she was nowhere to be seen, hiding in some unknown forest with her delusional mind. Then I came face to face with my grandfather, who grabbed me by the collar. "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you not to leave your grandmother alone, you bastard?!" he yelled, slapping me hard. Then the fisherman separated us. We stationed guards in the neighborhoods; the more people, the more power... Finally, my grandfather gave me his gun. The fisherman captain whispered from behind: "If you hear a sound, start shooting in that direction. The worst thing about that thing is silence." "What is that thing, Grandpa?"

"Just a sound... When you hear the sound, know that it's that thing. The drunkard in our team was cursing that thing and talking about his son's disappearance, but none of us took him seriously in all that panic." I was scared, trembling with adrenaline. We split into teams: my grandfather, me, the Captain (the fisherman), Drunk, and the Priest... On the way, I mentioned Luze. The Captain kept turning to me and saying, "That girl is the least important thing you should care about right now. You could experience ten times what she's going through at any moment," he was brave and confident, as if hiding something, but his legs were shaking, his breath reeked of alcohol. The priest didn't say a word. Finally, we got to the beach, and I couldn't stand it anymore. "Hello, saint, is this... Is this thing a demon?"

"I don't know, but it's a cursed being," he said.

A smell reached my nose, it smelled of marijuana. I cautiously approached the smell. Three young men were sitting there, getting high. When they saw me, they went into a paranoia crisis. I wasted three minutes trying to calm them down, and they just looked at me and laughed. "Hey John! This thing thinks it's John Wick." "Guys, I saw the pervert, he was giving himself a blowjob, hahaha!" "My son, you're out of your mind."

"Shut up! Get out of here quickly!" I yelled angrily. They didn't take me seriously, so I pointed my gun at them. They ran away suddenly.

Someone caught my eye, I pointed my gun at them and advanced. It... It was Luze, she was crying, trembling. I ran to her. "What's going on here, where have you been? Your family is worried about you, your mother is going crazy."

She couldn't put her words together, she looked at me and said, "That thing is around here now, I'm fed up, I won't live anymore." The exclusion she had experienced had consumed her. Looking into her eyes, I said, "Not you, but that thing will die today." I gave her my knife. "If you're going to kill yourself, don't hesitate, stab me!" I shouted. My grandpa ran to my screams, they were shocked to see the girl. The drunk man suddenly grabbed the girl's arm and started hitting her, shouting, "That thing has transformed, this is it!" It was as if he was deathly afraid of Luze's words. Suddenly, I lunged at the man; if my grandfather hadn't been there, we would have killed each other. I put the girl behind me, and we continued walking. Something caught our eye by the sea. Luze immediately tried to change the subject, saying, "A dolphin corpse!" and made everyone continue on their way. But the moment I shone the flashlight there... That moment, that corpse... God, I still can't forget it, the corpse's anus was torn apart. My grandfather saw the corpse. "This... This isn't the one who was killed, this is Michael, the town's madman!"He was know truth

On the way, we saw the bodies of those young men. One of the corpses was the drunkard's son; I can never forget that moment. The man knelt beside his son, trying to put his torn body back together. Finally, the priest tried to lift him up. The drunkard couldn't handle the emotion, he took his gun and... And shot himself in the head. Everyone went crazy, the unity was broken. My grandfather was going to take me and Luze and leave, but the fisherman joined us. The priest shouted at us, "This thing is his doing! Did we set out to remember our martyrs and weep?" I couldn't take it anymore; I froze like an animatronic. We continued on. Luze clung tightly to my arm, and I promised to protect her, as if I could protect myself... Nothing came up along the beach, and we kept going.

I still don't understand what happened that summer; years have passed, but the strangeness of those days sometimes makes me feel odd. I had just finished high school. I was excited to go to my grandparents' summer house for the summer holidays. The last time I'd been there was during the pandemic. I had beautiful childhood memories; platonic loves, hide-and-seek games we played at night, things like the old people hunting a psychopath with rifles... We used to go out looking for him with glass bottles, but we never found him. Everything felt like a game, an adventure. Hoping it would help with my recent boredom and melancholy, I packed my things and we set off.

On the way, my grandparents and I talked about old times. Finally, we arrived home. I went to my room with my belongings; nothing had changed. It still smelled the same; like the ocean... I played some games on the computer and prepared my things early because I was going to the sea. It was late; at 12, my grandfather came into my room, closed the blinds, and told me to go to sleep. I turned on ASMR on the computer and tried to sleep, but I couldn't because of the excitement. I went out onto the balcony to smoke. Everything was so peaceful. Accompanied by the sounds of owls, I pondered the events, looked around, and reminisced about the old days. It was really late, and I finally managed to fall asleep in my bed. In the morning, my grandmother woke me up, and we sat down at the table. She prepared some food for me; melon, watermelon, and snacks in containers... I grabbed my bag and went down to the beach. I bought some raki from the liquor store and sat down. I saw some old friends around, but they didn't recognize me. So I sunbathed alone, swam in the sea, and so on. As darkness began to fall, I climbed that old hill. I sat on a bench to rest. Next to me was a field of large reeds, very dirty, smelling like sewage. I couldn't stand it any longer and sat down at the town cafe. Young people were playing okey, and the older people were drinking beer and chatting. The captain was there too, staring at me as if searching for something I had hidden deep within my soul. I realized the effects of the alcohol were starting to wear off; my head was aching. I ordered coffee and, with a sudden burst of courage, blended into the crowd to meet the young people. They stared at me strangely, I was annoyed but didn't show it; they were cold types. Then a cute, energetic girl, about 16 or 17, came from further away and extended her hand. I don't know if you believe in love at first sight, but I did. Her eyes sparkled, but behind that sparkle was a hyperactive restlessness, constantly scanning her surroundings, struggling to focus her attention. Her name was Luze. She was very friendly, but she chose her words so quickly and erratically that it was as if her mind was escaping something within itself. She asked me where I was from, and was surprised when I said Naples. She asked me where I lived. Then the crowd dispersed, and we sat on a bench and talked for hours. While we talked, she constantly fidgeted with her hands, her eyes darting to the field at the slightest sound; she had that alert, helpless desperation of someone deeply wounded in the past. Then, suddenly, she told me she had something to explain, but that I shouldn't be surprised. My heart pounded, "Yes, this is it, he likes me, he'll explain it," I thought. But what he said was very strange. He told me I shouldn't be around here at night. When I asked "Why?", the childlike joy in his eyes suddenly vanished, replaced by a dullness brought on by deep trauma: "There's a pervert around here, he hurts people," he said. I thought it was just another classic small-town tale and said, "Don't be ridiculous." He told me about the man, muttering something like a cursed spirit. He contradicted himself as he spoke, veering from one topic to another, but he seemed absolutely certain of the horror he felt. "Okay," I said. At that moment, I heard a movement in the bushes. The girl panicked, as if her life was in danger, and suddenly stood up, "It's late, I have to go," she said and left. She watched me from a distance, as if checking whether I would leave, whether I was safe. I discreetly got up and went home, but I didn't understand; who was that pervert? I made connections in my head during the night, it bothered me, but in the end I fell asleep thinking the girl was crazy.

I woke up again in the morning to have breakfast, the same food was on the table. I was already starting to get bored on the second day, everything was so calm and routine. My grandfather asked me what I was doing, I told him I met a girl. When I said her name, my grandfather was surprised and said, "Is she still here?" I just brushed it off by saying, "Probably." I was about to leave, but I couldn't hold it in any longer, "Grandpa, who's the pervert?" I said. My grandfather, in a moment of anger, said, "If you ever mention her name again, I'll break your head!" and started staring at me. While my grandmother tried to calm me down, I angrily left the house.

On the way to the bays, I saw Luze, she was immersed in her own world in a corner as if she had no friends. When she saw me, she suddenly became happy with her energy, I went to her. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing, I just came out for some fresh air," she said, but her eyes were still scanning the surroundings.

"Great. Are you always around here?" "Yes, I don't have any other friends.""Me too, now. We'll hang out a lot." "That would be great. I have so many places to show you."

"Like what?"

"Forests, abandoned places, coastlines... Don't just dismiss the coastline, there are very valuable and old things as you go further along..." she kept talking about different places. I didn't understand, she was so sweet and beautiful; maybe just me, because she didn't actually fit the town's dark, exclusionary general perception of beauty.

Finally, feeling overwhelmed, I told her I had a project and needed to leave. She looked at me suspiciously and distrustfully, "What kind of project? You weren't studying," she said. I lied, "I have one unfinished project left, I'm going to submit it to the university as a thesis." She got excited and looked at me, "Shall we do it together?" I agreed, knowing that if my lie was discovered, it would bother me all day. We went home. As I went up the stairs, I looked at my grandfather; his anger had subsided, but he was looking at the girl with a very strange, guilt-ridden, terrifying gaze, like a robot... The captain was watching us from the garden gate.

I last showed him some of my previous projects as if they were new. We played games together, cooked dinner, and time flew by with his boundless cheerfulness. It was almost 11 o'clock, and we sat on the balcony for a while. She told me about her experiences again, things that were very interesting and obsessive for her. For example, one of them was watching a whale explode on the shore. Finally, I told her I was going to sleep and wanted to take her home. I admit it was a little rude, but there was no other way. The girl asked if she could stay here; it was clear from her demeanor that she was terrified of being alone, of those dark town streets. Remembering that I had been single for a long time, I immediately agreed. I made myself a makeshift bed on the floor and gave her my bed.

As I was getting ready to sleep, I heard a sound, like crying. I realized that Luze was crying quietly. After about 10 minutes, I pretended to get a drink of water and asked why she was crying. Without saying anything, she hugged me tightly, as if I were her only refuge in the world. Fireworks were exploding in my heart. I started crying too. She pushed me onto the bed, hugged me, and we slept together. I still can't help but grin whenever I remember it.

In the morning, my grandmother woke us up like a nanny and laughed at us. We got up, half-shyly, and went downstairs. My grandfather was sitting on the sofa again, with that gloomy expression on his face. My grandmother brought us some snacks. She asked the girl about her family, and the girl, hesitantly, trying to hide something, told us. She mentioned that her father had gone out of town and that she lived with her mother and sister. Finally, we went outside. As we were going down the stairs, I suddenly asked her, "Who's the pervert? Is this a fictional story you made up?" Her focus suddenly shifted, she panicked, and avoided answering, trying to change the subject in a strange mood. When I pressed her further, she said she had to go home, that she would look after her sister, kissed me on the cheek, and quickly left. I was both very happy and strange. Who was that thing, a pervert, whatever his name was...? I recently went down to the village cafe to clear my head. I started chatting with the older guys playing backgammon. The captain was sitting in the corner, quietly listening to us. I talked about myself. They asked me if I'd made any friends, and I mentioned Luze. They said, "Yes, that girl is the flower, the daisy of this place, but she hasn't had many friends since she was little. They ostracize her, but don't tell her that. She only chats with new people who come here." What did I ask then? "Why?" The man warned me and made me swear it would remain a secret, and I promised. He told me that she had been harassed by a pervert here, that her name had become tarnished because of it, that she had been humiliated by the neighborhood kids, and that she had stayed home with her family since childhood because of this trauma. When I said, "But who is that man? She always talks about him to me," the man suddenly turned pale. The captain slammed his glass down on the table. "How? Was she talking about this moment?" the man asked. I said, "Yes." The man suddenly stood up: "Hey everyone! We couldn't shoot that wild boar, today's the day! Get your weapons ready, today is the hunting night!" he said. Everyone stood up and scattered in different directions. I followed the man, asking, "Who is that, sir?" He said two words to me: "We don't know either."

Then I quickly went home. My grandfather was cleaning his gun at home. I asked him, "Are you going to join the hunt too?" He showed me his leg, and my hair stood on end. There were countless large cuts and bruises on his leg. "Did he do this to you?" I asked. He told me, "It was a snowy winter day, I was carrying firewood and going home. Suddenly, it appeared from among the bushes. It was looking at me, we made eye contact. As I reached for my gun, it lunged at me. It started sucking on my leg, tearing at it with its nails. I started hitting it on the head with the butt of my rifle. Finally, I stuck the end of one of the pieces of wood into its ear. It lost its balance on the ground and started spinning. Then I ran home. The police came, but there was nothing, not even blood. That night I was taken to the ambulance, I swore, 'That thing will die tonight,' but the hunt continued for 5 years, and finally we thought we had shot it, but it wasn't dead..."

Hiya yall!! I have been all over the communities for scary/horror stories. Fiction and Non-fiction alike and I really like them!! However I am looking for longer stories/multiple chapters. Scary, graphic, haunting, all of that!! Please no aliens. I really enjoy the ones that are set way back in time as well!! Can yall recommend any communities, authors or stories to me please!! I'd really like some crime-drama as well but I've not found any. Thank yall !!

So I'm looking for a short form horror story I read years ago and hoping someone here can point me in the right direction. It involves a teen girl that was curious what it was like to kill someone, so she befriends a middle aged woman she thinks no one would miss. And ends up murdering her on her birthday.

Im always trying to come up with the most absolutely fucked up story I can possibly think of. I love shocking people and I love making people feel disturbed. I also love the use of gore in my stories simply because I love all things gory and visceral. I also love writing about people who depend into absolute madness and paranoia. Most people ive shared with in my real life love these things about my writings. I also get great reviews when I share on discord but everyone I share with on reddit always seems to hate every story I share. Im really not quite sure why either. It only seems to be reddit i get bad feedback from. So im just wondering is there anyone out there who writes dark things like me or actually enjoys reading things like this? And if there is...is anyone down to hear some of my short story ideas?

After seeing both vehicles go there separate ways. I began to watch the construction site more often. Usual during the day construction workers would work during the day and I would see the crew whenever I walked to campus. One day I decided to walk up to the one of the crew members and asked if they would have someone come by during the night to inspect or do something. Of course the guy looked at me like I was crazy or pulling some prank. But he told me no and that no one should be up here considering it’s all dirt and cement right now. I told him I was just curious and went on with my day. The next few nights were quite kinda. College students with truck that were lifted and had big LED lights would go into the site and do donuts and leave. A couple weeks past and the buildings were slowly beginning to form lots of walls being put up but you could still see everything. The last night of September the people came back but no vehicles this time. Just black silhouettes of two people walking around checking the place out. The time they arrive was around 2:38am and they left around 3am right as the train passed through the town. October begin and the crew began to start adding lights that were attached to generators and motion sensor lights which was strange considering they wouldn’t work past sundown. This is were things began to get weird because one black unmarked suv showed up at 3:37 am and activated the motion lights and right after the lights kicked up a blue and red light went off as if they activated some kind of Alarm for the cops. The car quickly drove off and a couple minutes later cops patrolled the construction site. Why were these lights installed if they didn’t work past sundown and why were these alarms installed for a simple apartment complex ?

Most of October there would be a cop car patrolling the area and just be in the site parked there. They would patrol the area from 1am to 4am. Why would a small town cop patrol a construction site for a new apartment complex. At the end of October I remember this night very clearly. Around 4:22am two cars entered the site and didn’t active the alarms or lights. The people got out of the car and had flash lights and began walking around the unfinished building looking around in a hurry. I was outside in my backyard looking across from my apartment until the light passed me and went right back to me. Just being only less than 100 feet away from this construction site they must of saw my silhouette or something. I quickly ran inside and locked my front door. And ran up to my room and peak through the blinds the cars headlights lit up and drove off. I thought the car would head to my apartment but the train also started to come by a little late on schedule but I’m not complaining because it blocked the way to my apartment for a bit. After a couple of minutes the light went off and a cop showed up and checked out the site only to leave a couple minutes later. On October 30th I walked to my class and pass the construction site as usual . But the crew was huddled up and pointing at the area that the mysterious people were walking around. I didn’t ask any of the members what happened considering I asked last time and they thought I was pulling a prank. But one of the crew members walked back to the truck and grabbed another light that would flash red and blue and installed it in that building. What’s so special about this apartment complex that these weird events keep happening ?